The Duke of Desire

by Michaels, Jess

  He’d ached for her ever since. And known he had no right to long for her, not after what he’d done in the past and the present. He had to earn that right, as each and every one of his friends had been quick to tell him.

  They were right, of course. So if he had to, he would spend the rest of his life doing just that. Starting today.

  “They are waiting for you in the west parlor, Your Grace.” Jenner pursed his lips as if he was irritated. Robert couldn’t blame him. He knew the attitude of the men in his parlor.

  “Very good. There will be nothing else. Just be ready to call for their carriages.” He glared down the hallway. “They will not be staying long.”

  The butler inclined his head and Robert headed away. He flexed his hands open and closed as the sound of the boisterous laughter of his guests filtered through the air from behind the closed door. He hesitated for a moment before he entered.

  He was going to show his vulnerability. To vultures. And he would do it for Katherine.

  He pushed the door open and the men in the room turned with wide grins. They were his…friends was one word for it. Men he had rabble roused and tom-catted around with. Men who fed his worst impulses.

  Berronburg was chief amongst them, standing in the middle of a circle of four men. As Robert stepped inside, he began to clap and the others joined in. Robert’s stomach turned as he shut the door behind him.

  “Good show, old man,” one of the others, the Earl of Middlemarch, called out.

  It was Mr. Peter Ward who spoke next. “Yes, yes. Berronburg told us you have sealed the wager by bedding Lady Gainsworth. We all cannot wait to hear the details of your conquest.”

  “When you called us all here for the moment of your return, we knew there could be no other reason,” said Sir Curtis Denton as he lifted a glass of Robert’s finest scotch in salute. “Welcome home, conqueror.”

  Robert shook his head. He hated himself for what he’d been in the company of these men. He’d always told himself that he was careful, that he was harmless. That was so far from the truth.

  “I did not call you here so I could crow,” he said, keeping his voice soft somehow when he wanted to shout.

  “You will have us tease the details out of you,” Berronburg chortled. “You are a bastard. I saw the man at Abernathe’s ball just a few days ago. You should have seen him with the countess. Stop being so coy. How delicious was she?”

  Robert moved forward and caught Berronburg’s collar, dragging him flush against him as he glared down into his friend…former friend’s…face. “If you speak of the lady so cavalierly again, I will see you at dawn.”

  The jovial tone of the room dissipated in a moment and Berronburg swallowed hard. “I-I didn’t mean to offend, Roseford.”

  Robert released him, pushing him away as he paced from the circle of scavengers waiting for tidbits. “You do offend. I did not call you here for some disgusting display. You are here because I want to make something very clear to each and every one of you.”

  Berronburg was still straightening his twisted clothing, and so it was Middlemarch who spoke next. “And what is that? Did you not win the wager? Is there still an open season on the countess?”

  Robert speared the man with a look that drew all the blood from his cheeks and made the earl take a long step away. “The Countess of Gainsworth is off limits,” he said. “She is not to be approached by any man in this room or any acquaintance outside our circle. She is not to be whispered about or sneered at in any way. Do I make myself clear?”

  “He couldn’t land her,” Sir Curtis chuckled, clearly in his cups since he could not read the tone of the room. Berronburg reached out to grip his arm with a swift shake of his head.

  Robert barely kept himself from marching across the room and breaking Denton’s nose. “The lady,” he said slowly, “will be my wife if I can ever convince her to forgive me for what a bastard I have been.”

  The collective mouths of his friends dropped open all at once and the stunned silence might have once made Robert laugh. Today he felt no joy in it, not when he relived what Katherine had said to him. What her crumpled face had looked like when she poured out her heartbreak, the devastation he had caused.

  “You are going to…to marry her?” Berronburg stammered with a shake of his head.

  “I am in love with the lady. And if you do not wish to risk my wrath, I would expect you will honor that,” Robert growled.

  It was funny. He had spent the ride back from Abernathe anticipating this moment. Worrying about what he would say, how his former friends would react. Declaring himself had been a point of great anxiety.

  But now it felt easy. He didn’t give a damn what these men thought of him. Only that Katherine would be protected from their sneers and whispers, whether she married him or not. If he could not have her, by God he would protect her.

  “Raise a glass to the loss of the greatest libertine in London,” Berronburg said solemnly as he swept up a tumbler from the sideboard and lifted it in Robert’s direction. “And to the lady who finally tamed him. Wager or no.”

  Robert wrinkled his brow in surprise as each man lifted his glass in turn.

  “Your lady has nothing to fear from us,” Sir Curtis said with a sigh. “There will be no whispers from our set. Good Society is out of our control.”

  Robert pursed his lips. That was true. The duchesses were a help with that, of course. And if he could convince Katherine to hear him out, to listen to his pleas and be his wife, perhaps one day she would be accepted. Or at least have enough clout thanks to his name, his fortune, that she wouldn’t have to care.

  “So she knows of your wager, then?” Berronburg continued.

  Robert nodded once. His friends had the good sense to look chagrined at that as they shifted and exchanged looks.

  Berronburg shrugged. “Probably a bit piggish for us to make that wager in the first place.”

  “Very,” Robert said. “And it is my last decree as the biggest…formerly biggest libertine in London…that it never happen again.”

  The men looked annoyed, but all of them nodded.

  Robert scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if she’ll forgive me.”

  At that, Middlemarch edged toward the door. “You know, Roseford, we are not the kind of men to ask for help on that score. I think your duke friends are more fashioned for advice of the heart. But we do wish you the best. And we’ll make certain your wishes for Lady Gainsworth’s privacy are circulated throughout our circles. Good day.”

  Robert nodded as the men filed away. When the room was empty, he let out a long sigh. That would probably be the last time he would spend with that group. These were not friends like his club, his brothers. They had always been fleeting, surface. And losing them meant nothing.

  But losing Katherine still sat heavy on his mind. And now that he had taken care of his first matter of business, he was ready to move on to the next. Groveling. He could only pray that it would be enough.

  Katherine let out a long sigh as she stepped into her parlor and looked around the room. Just a few weeks before, she had loved this little house. It represented her freedom, her ability to control her future. The quiet was wonderful then.

  Now it was stifling. It reminded her of what was missing from her life, what she would never have again.

  It had been five days since she last saw Robert. He had not come down to say farewell when she departed Emma and James’s home the day after her argument with him. She’d told him to leave her alone and it seemed he would honor that request.

  He had also not come to her door in London since her arrival the previous afternoon. He had not sent word, though her aunt had heard he was back in London, too. Bethany was cursing him at present, because Katherine hadn’t been able to keep the truth from her aunt. And yet Bethany’s comfort wasn’t what she wanted.

  It was his. Only his.

  She sank into the settee and put her
head in her hands. “Little fool, you never meant a thing,” she whispered. “You knew that from the start.”

  When she said those words out loud, they came out as a sob and she struggled to keep the tears at bay. Once they started, she feared they would never stop, and she couldn’t face them.

  “My lady?”

  She glanced up to find her butler standing at her parlor door, shifting from foot to foot in discomfort. “Yes, Wilkes,” she said, straightening. “What is it?”

  “Your father has arrived,” he said, and there was no mistaking the concern and disdain to his voice. “Demanding to see you. I know you said you wanted any callers to be told you were not in residence but—”

  “It’s fine,” she lied, and got to her feet to pour her father tea. “I’m certain he will not be deterred. Send him in.”

  He bowed away and a moment later returned. She watched as her father pushed past him into the room. She nodded and Wilkes departed, leaving them alone.

  “Do you know what I heard about you while you were gone?” Mr. Montague sputtered without preamble.

  She sighed and motioned for him to sit. “Hello, Father. I am surprised to see you considering our last conversation, when I believe you cut me off forever. But thank you for the call regardless. My trip to the country was fine, thank you for asking. I heard there was rain while I was away. How is your rheumatism?”

  He flopped into her seat and held a hand out for his tea. “I don’t need your lip, missy.”

  “As I said, you dismissed me from your life the last time you called,” she snapped as she handed it over, playing out a game they had participated in for years. “Why in the world would you come back to me now?”

  “You’re marrying the Duke of Roseford?” he said, lifting both brows. “One can only assume how a woman such as you could make a man like him commit to a lifetime shackled to you.”

  She stared at him in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”

  Her father shook his head and glared at her. “Don’t play with me. It’s all around Society gossip that you and Roseford will wed.”

  Her heart leapt at that thought. The one she had shoved aside the moment she knew of Robert’s perfidy. The words that now warmed her heart and made her long for what she’d told herself she could never have with him.

  “Well, the gossip is wrong,” she said, hating that her voice shook. “Roseford and I did develop a—a friendship in Abernathe. But there is nothing more to it than that, I assure you. His Grace will not marry.”

  A smug smirk tilted his lips. “I knew it could not be true. Why would a man with such power lower himself so completely? A man of his reputation would only tup a woman like you, not pledge his life to hers. Whoever said he told them that must have misunderstood.”

  Katherine caught her breath as anger filled her. All her life, she had listened to him rail at her. Punish her for sins she had never committed. Paint her with a brush she had never deserved. He had abused her mind and her soul. She had always been the one to apologize for it.

  And she thought of Robert, who had whispered to her that her “nature,” as her father put it, was not something to be shunned or humiliated by. He had seen her true self. He had opened his arms to that and held her so gently in them.

  Robert had accepted her. With a few days away from their argument, from her shock at what she’d overheard, she knew that the connection was real. The Duke of Roseford had seen her. And he had wanted her not despite who she was, but because of it.

  “You hated my mother for her light,” she said, her voice still shaking as she returned her attention to her father. “And you hated me for mine. You separated me from my family and you ripped me from my future, all while you pretended to be good. To be right. To be…godly. And now you have the gall to come here, into my home, and tell me what I am? Tell me who would love me when you have never known real love in your pathetic life?”

  He stared up at her, mouth agape. “How dare you speak to me that way? I’m your father.”

  “No.” She shook her head slowly as a calm came over her. Deep and unlike any she’d ever known. “You are no father. Not to me. I have never had a father. I had a keeper and an abuser and man who would destroy me. But never a father.”

  He stood, tea sloshing from his cup. “I tried to protect you from yourself.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She paced past him. “You tried to mold me into what you wanted, and nothing I ever did was good enough. And I let you. I let you do it because I thought you might love me if I did as you asked. Only what I’ve learned, quite recently, is that true love sees a person for what they are and accepts it. True love is understanding, not judgment.”

  “Fairytale notions. You must live in the real world,” he spat.

  “Yes,” she agreed softly. “I must. But not your world.” She stared at him, burning this image of him in her mind forever. Taking a moment to truly experience what she felt, what she knew in this moment of clarity that Robert had helped her find. Then she said, “You are not welcome in my home again. You are not welcome in my life at all. We are finished. Do you understand?”

  “You dare to cut me out of your life?” he said, his tone dripping with shock and disdain as he set his cup down.

  Only that pointed disapproval didn’t hurt anymore. Not like it had all her life. She nodded. “I do dare,” she said. “And unlike all the times you’ve threatened the same to me, I mean it. Your daughter is dead to you. Give your judgments to someone else. And get out of my house.”

  She pointed to the door and he stared first at it, then at her. His cheeks filled with high color and he huffed out a breath. “You’ll be sorry when you’re all alone.”

  He stormed out and she watched him go, heart heavy and yet somehow free. As his carriage raced away from her drive she shook her head. “I would rather be alone than with someone who did not see my value.”

  She sat down. Now that her father was gone, now that she had taken charge of that part of her life, she could think again of what had brought him here. A rumor that she would marry Roseford? And Montague had seemed to think that it had come from the lips of the duke, himself.

  She walked into the foyer and found Wilkes standing by. He gave her a kind smile.

  “Wilkes, will you have my carriage brought around?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Of course, my lady. Straight away.”

  He scuttled off to do it and she stepped through the front door to stand on her step and breathe the cool air. There was only one way to find out exactly what was going on. She had to go see Robert. And she needed to go right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Robert sat at his desk, staring at the thick piece of vellum before him. He had been sitting there for half an hour and all he’d written was Katherine’s name.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t know what he had to say. It was that there was so much to say that he didn’t know how to organize it. Did he apologize first? Beg to see her? Should he tell her he loved her? That seemed to be something he should say to her face, but it was possible she would not see him. Would not accept another letter after the first. So maybe it was best to say it in writing.

  “Bollocks,” he muttered, and threw the quill down.

  “Your Grace?”

  He glanced up to find Jenner standing at the door. “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to intrude, but—”

  He didn’t get to finish. Before he could, Katherine stepped around the butler and stood in his study, staring at him. His heart leapt into his throat and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. She didn’t wear a wrap despite the chill to the autumn air. Her hair was loose, like it had been done hastily.

  And she was more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen his whole life.

  “It’s fine,” he muttered, getting up. “I’m fine. Leave us.”

  Jenner gave Katherine an annoyed look, but left the room. As he did, she reached back and shut the door behind
him. Then she faced Robert again.

  “You are here,” he said, unable to find anything but that to say. “That sounds so foolish, but I am shocked. I hadn’t even sent my letter.”

  She swallowed hard and stepped into the room. “You were—you were writing me a letter?”

  He motioned to his desk and she came forward, tilting her head to read what he’d written. When she saw only her name, she arched a brow at him.

  He shrugged. “I am not very good at writing letters.”

  She smiled, and some of the tension bled from her expression. “Somehow I doubt that, Robert. You are too witty not to be very good at writing letters.”

  He tried not to read too much into her use of his given name rather than his title and forced himself to remain calm. “This isn’t a letter where my wit will serve me, though. It has to be something genuine, heartfelt, and I am not very experienced in being those things.”

  “More than you think,” she said softly.

  For a moment, her hand stirred, and he thought she might touch him. He ached for it, leaned toward it. Then she shook her head and backed away.

  “My father called on me today,” she said.

  He flinched and all his need to reunite with her was pushed to the back of his mind. That could wait in the face of this news. “From our conversations in Abernathe, I thought he had cut you off.”

  “Our conversations in your bed,” she said, her tone clipped. “In my bed. Where we shared all those things we had never said to anyone else.”

  “Yes.”

  She swallowed and seemed to gather herself. “Yes, well, it seems his disinheriting me before I left London didn’t stick. It will now. When he started his usual abuse, I told him he was no longer welcome in my home. I cut him off this time. And I meant it.”

  His lips parted. He knew how painful and complicated Katherine’s relationship with her father had been over the years. How much he had stolen from her and how much she had longed for connection with him regardless.